


Wounds of a Less Physical Nature

by damnmads



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canon Compliant, Damen is helpful, Ending Slavery, Established Relationship, Good guy Paschal, Laurent is tired, M/M, Nightmares, Nikandros is over it, Past Abuse, Post-Kings Rising, They talk about a lot of things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnmads/pseuds/damnmads
Summary: A domestic night and morning between the two Kings. A canon take on a realistic future between them, a few years after their respective ascensions and implied marriage. A little hurt, a little comfort, mainly people helping other people.





	Wounds of a Less Physical Nature

His body lay paralyzed under the heavy quilts of the bed. A man settles on top of him, crushing his chest. He touches Laurent’s young face, cheeks still rounded with adolescence, and caresses his bottom lip. Laurent’s heart recoils in disgust at his own weakness, unable to resist. The man’s rough hand drags down Laurent’s vulnerable neck and collarbones, and Laurent wants to scream.

“-ent.” A sound competed for his attention against the man’s heavy breaths.

“Laurent!”

He jerked awake and threw the warm hand off of his shoulder. Curling up into a sitting position, he tried to catch his breath as the paralysis of the nightmare slowly wore away and his limbs began to shiver. He threw his legs over the side of the bed but hesitated in getting up and stumbling to the open window as he had the night before.

Damen immediately got out of bed to retrieve a cup of water, understanding that Laurent would want distance after the dream. Returning, he sat on the edge of the soft cushions and faced Laurent.

“Was it your uncle?” Damen asked softly, offering the cup. Laurent accepted it blindly and took a small sip before setting it gently on the ground.

“It’s always my uncle.” Laurent responded in a rough voice, still gazing at the opposite wall.

Eventually Laurent reached his hand back, and Damen gripped it firmly. He held it for a few minutes, then walked around the corner of the bed to face Laurent. He ran his hands through the golden strands over and over until Laurent’s eyes closed and he brought his head forward to gently rest on Damen’s bare stomach. Damen kept combing through Laurent’s hair, listening to the other’s slowing exhales.

Damen nudged Laurent’s head up, looking into his eyes. Laurent used to remain frightened and skittish for hours after a nightmare, uncomfortable with Damen’s touch, and even his gaze. Whether he expected to find disgust or irritation, Damen did not know. But after years of sharing the same bed, and hundreds of nights interrupted, he now found only exhaustion in Laurent’s gaze. In the bags under his eyes, in the slope of his shoulders, in his expressionless face. Fear gripped Damen, as it rarely does. He did not know how many more nights like this Laurent could take.

“Are you going to be alright?” He asked into the silence.

“I will be fine. I’ve always been fine,” Laurent said, gazing at the floor. “Nights like these are simply drops in an ocean.”

 _I am an idiot_ , Damen thought to himself. Laurent had dealt with nightmares before he met Damen. He had kept himself company through the night, more times than Damen could imagine. Alone, for years.

“Of course. Laurent, I… ” Damen broke off, horrified at the image his mind supplied of a scared young Laurent, curled in his bed, shaking. A familiar rage warmed his blood, a pure hatred for the Regent he held for nothing else in the world.

Laurent sensed his anger, and he placed his hand on Damen’s beating heart.

“I don’t blame you anymore,” Laurent said. “You have to know I have forgiven you for everything.”

“Everything?” Damen asked, with surprise.

“I had to” He explained. “In order to live with myself. Come lay down?”

Surprised, but still agitated, Damen pulled back, aware of how close their faces had been. He stood and watched as Laurent discarded his sweat-drenched pillow and settled himself back against the bed, eyes closed. He felt Damen’s weight on the cushions as he returned as well. They lay side by still, breathing into the silent room.

“I have forgiven you as well,” Damen said.

“In order to live with yourself?

“Similar, but no. To give us peace. We are beyond grudges and guilt now. At least, that is what I hope.” Damen turned to face Laurent, whose face held no softness.

“We are.” Laurent agreed simply.

Damen laughed at his demeanor. “Never change,” he chuckled. Laurent’s eyebrow twitched, having the distinct feeling that he was being made fun of.

“The cold bitch,” Damen explained bluntly. “Your self-control. Steady even as you flay men alive. Your face betrays nothing, Laurent.”

“I assumed you disliked that part of me.”

“It is your greatest strength,” Damen countered. Sobering, he pulled his gaze from Laurent’s. “It kept you alive,” remembering the reason they were both awake so late at night.

Laurent hummed to acknowledge his point. “I suppose.” His gaze traveled across Damen, noting the easy way his dark limbs sprawled on the bed. Open gaze, love and amusement clear in his eyes and lips. A contrast from Laurent, in every way.

“I hope,” Laurent began with difficulty, “that you don’t feel shut out.”

Damen turned on his side to face Laurent. He opened his mouth to answer in the negative, but hesitated. There were many times he felt Laurent recede into himself, refuse help and assurance from Damen. It was frustrating, at times.

“You do.” Laurent said in a tired voice.

“No.”

Laurent’s expression didn’t change.

“Yes,” Damen sighed. “But I just… I worry that you will burn yourself out.” He noticed the indignant set of Laurent’s shoulders. “You are used to settling things alone, I understand that,” he added.

“But I don’t have to anymore,” Laurent quoted back to him.

Damen sighed, understanding this conversation was getting nowhere. “I am yours, Laurent. My strength, my kingdom, my love, they are at your disposal. Please, promise me you will ask for help if you need it.”

“Alright.”

Damen studied the deep blue hue under Laurent’s eyes, his skin looking translucent in the moonlight. Laurent turned over until his back was to Damen, and heard the other man sigh again. He reached back and pulled Damen towards him until his chest was flush with Laurent’s back. Damen’s arm came around to gently anchor around Lauren’s waist, his hand resting over Laurent’s stomach.

“Alright,” Damen agreed, voice slurred and warm.

“Goodnight, lover.”

Damen was already asleep. Laurent knew he would not be able to drift off, but was content to lay in Damen’s arms until morning arrived. His mind perused all that had been said between them. The nightmares continued as they had since he was a teenager, but they seemed to weigh more heavily on him these past few months. He had grown colder, more distant, his temper had become shorter. He was exhausted on all levels, and was angry at himself for allowing his uncle to rule his life even after death.

Thoughts similar to these plagued him until morning finally arrived. By the time he felt Damen shift beside him, his mind was rife with anxiety. Damen felt the muscles in Laurent’s back flinch against his movement.

“Laurent?”

“I think,” he forced out, “I need help.”

Damen was immediately awake. He sat up and pulled Laurent’s shoulder until he was flat on his back. His hand was immediately cupping Laurent’s jaw, his firm grip careless from sleep.

“We’re going to fix this,” Damen said plainly, his brow furrowed and his body blocking the harsh morning rays from Laurent’s face. He dragged his hand through Laurent’s hair near his temple. “Will you visit Paschal today?”

“Paschal?” Laurent said, confused by the change of topic.

“There are doctors who specialize in trauma and abuse, in wounds of a less physical nature.”

“Yes, there are. Paschal is not one of those doctors.”

“I asked him to begin researching the practice a few years ago, in case you ever needed help.”

“Why tell Paschal to learn, why not simply bring in a specialist who already has the training?” Laurent asked, though he already knew the answer.

“You’ve known Paschal since you were young. He’s already aware of the circumstances of your abuse. He is fond of you. It would require effort on your part, however. I know it would be difficult for you to speak openly of what happened.”

Laurent was speechless, and Damen seemed to sense this.

“I didn’t mean to overstep. But, I know the dreams have been taking a toll. Recently, more than usual. I needed to do something useful.”

“You…” Laurent couldn’t help it, he began to laugh. Upon seeing Damen’s flat expression, he laughed even harder. “You are incredible.” He threaded his fingers through Damen’s. “My honorable barbarian,” he murmured to himself.

“What are you laughing at” Damen asked.

Laurent hummed. “I suppose I forgot your nature. When I asked for help, I expected more… cooing.”

“Cooing?”

“Yes, like how women talk to babies.”

“You aren’t a baby, and I’m not a woman”

“No.” Laurent agreed. “You are a man of action.” Laurent had imagined what Damen would say in response to his confession. A kiss, a caress, an empty promise. He never imagined Damen would come to him with a solution.

“So, you will visit Paschal?” Damen asked.

“I’ll consider it.”

Damen smiled. “Thank you.”

Laurent sat up and slid his arms around Damen’s shoulders until his face was nestled in Damen’s neck. “Thank _you_ , Damianos.”

Damen’s arms came naturally around Laurent’s waist, pulling him in firmly.

“Shall I coo now?” He asked.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Laurent’s head was jostled by Damen’s laugh, and he smiled to himself as Damen’s hand came up to thread through his hair.

“You’re going to pull it out.”

“Oh,” Damen said as he removed his hand, unaware until that moment of his action. Laurent moved to look at Damen, matching his smile softly. He quickly pressed his lips against Damen’s, pulling back to see Damen’s smile had grown even more. They were interrupted by a brisk knock at the door, and a muted argument between the visitor and the guards. Laurent laughed.

“Enter,” he called out, still looking into Damen’s eyes.

Nikandros began speaking even before he flung the door open and strolled in, “Damen, an ambassador from Patras just arrived speaking nonsense of— oh for the love of—”

“Nikandros,” Damen warned.

“I apologize,” Nikandros responded, eyes determined to look anywhere but their bed.

“Shall we get dressed?” Laurent asked privately, amused by Nikandros’ behavior.

“If we must.” Damen rose to fetch a fresh chiton as Laurent similarly walked into the adjoining room to fetch a new undershirt. He glanced at Nikandros, “Continue.”

“Ah,” Nikandros was startled out of silence. “The Patrian claims that you wrote to them concerning the slave trade between our two countries. I told him I was unaware of any such negotiations, but would inform you of his arrival.”

“He got here sooner than expected,” Laurent mused from the other room.

“Yes,” Damen responded to the unspoken question in Nikandros’ gaze. “It’s time, Nik.” Laurent crossed the threshold into their bedroom clothed in a fine dark blue Veretian suit, laces yet to be tied. He swept up Damen’s lion pin from the bedside table as he gazed calmly at Nikandros.

“By the end of the month, Akielos will no longer partake in the Patrian slave trade,” Laurent said, attaching the pin to Damen’s shoulder as Damen began lacing the thin leather at Laurent’s throat.

“Do you have any idea what the people will think, Damen?” Nikandros pleaded.

“I imagine,” Laurent said, tilting his head up to allow Damen better access, “they will say this is only the first step. That eventually, Akielos will ban slavery altogether.” He raised an eyebrow at Nikandros as Damen picked up his wrist to begin lacing his sleeves.

“Is there a problem?” He asked.

“No.” Nikandros looked from Laurent to Damen, and caught his eye. Damen understood his expression to mean that Nikandros would approach him at a later date to express his concerns. “I’ll make sure the ambassador is comfortable until…”

“We will meet with him in an hour.”

“Yes, Exalted.” Nikandros made his way to the exit. “Your Majesty,” he nodded.

 _“Thank you”_ Damen mouthed. He watched the door until he heard it latch, then turned his attention to Laurent’s other wrist.

“It seems we’ve been found out,” Laurent said with humor. “Do you think he will be a problem?”

“No, Nikandros can be persuaded. He simply fears for our safety, but he trusts me to do right by Akielos.”

“We have that in common” Laurent agreed quietly.

Damen smiled, but his expression quickly turned to concern, “The ambassador from Patras, hm? He arrived rather fast. We only sent the summons two days ago. It’s a three day ride to the capital.”

“In fact, our letter shouldn’t have even crossed the border yet.”

Laurent and Damen wore the same expression: one of simultaneous apprehension and excitement. They separated, Laurent attaching a knife to a strap inside his boot and Damen draping a red paludamentum over his shoulder. Taking his sword with him would be too obvious, but he would make sure a guard near them was carrying two. Damen peeled an orange as Laurent shuffled through a few documents on the table by the window. Damen saw him slip one into some crevice within his jacket before walking to the double doors where Nikandros had exited earlier. Damen left the orange peel on the table and came to stand in front of Laurent.

“Got everything?” Damen asked, offering a slice to Laurent, who simply opened his mouth in response. Damen placed the orange delicately in his mouth.

“Have you thought about it any more?” he asked softly, taking advantage of the silence while Laurent’s mouth was full.

Laurent swallowed. “I’ll visit Paschal later today, I have a few things to discuss with him if we are to do this right.”

Damen smiled at him, reaching up to touch Laurent’s hair, but was interrupted by Laurent’s hand sliding into his raised one. Laurent clasped their hands together and brought them to his lips, kissing the ring on Damen’s finger. Looking up, Damen’s smile had fallen and his face displayed an easy desire. He leaned in, and Laurent met him halfway, coming together in an open-mouthed kiss. Damen separated his hand from Laurent’s, reaching around to pull their hips flush together. He broke the kiss reluctantly.

“I wish we had more time,” Damen sighed, aware of the meeting they had with the Patrian. He tried to meet Laurent’s eyes, but they were half-closed, absently gazing at a fold in his chiton. “Laurent?”

Laurent hummed in response.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired,” Laurent said. “And you’re very warm.”

“You weren’t able to fall back asleep last night.” Damen surmised.

Laurent shook his head slightly. Damen cursed, tucking Laurent’s head under his chin as he rubbed his hands over Laurent’s shoulders. He felt Laurent mumble something into his neck.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Damen frowned, worry gnawing at his heart.

Laurent finally pushed away, eyes sliding to the elaborate carvings on their doors. He seemed to be going through a list in his head. Damen saw his eyes clear and his posture straighten.

“Ready?”

“Always, lover.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write about Laurent's nightmares for a while. Mainly, how Damen would react to them. Some of the works I’ve read that dealt with the result of the Regent’s abuse have felt slightly out of character. So, I wanted to try it out. First fic ever, constructive criticism is encouraged and welcome. Disclaimer: I only did like, 10 minutes of research on ancient Greek and Roman psychology and therapy, but I'm pretty sure it was a thing. Also, a paludamentum is a glorified cape.


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